Between the gaps
by Shy Spirit Kitty
Summary: When Sherlock is caught crying out his name, John runs off and is helped out by Mycroft, who then tries to force himself onto John. Will Sherlock save him before it's to late? Warning- Attempted rape, M/M SherlockxJohn JohnxSherlock MycroftxJohn


This is rated M! Do not read if you don't like guyxguy and explicitness between. I do not own Sherlock, the BBC do. And Arthur Conan Doyle owns Sherlock Holmes and the characters.

Ah back to college tomorrow, written two fanfics today am quite pleased. I wrote the bus bit based on myself, I went to get a bus, got a day-rider and when I went back they changed the Thames bus to a Stage Coach! So I had to rebuy a bus ticket, and I had to borrow money. _ Whatever, anyways Enjoy. If you want review, you don't have to but it would be nice. Enjoys x

* * *

Huddled up in the back of the bus, John Watson glanced out of the window, breathing cold smoke onto the thick glass, he noted the children rushing out from the rain and the windows slamming shut, the plastic toys forgotten and newspapers with smiling people drowned among black and white lines. The chairs in front of him were filled then unfilled, most people listening to music while others sat looking out the windows until their stops. He'd been on the bus for 45 minutes, drenched to the bone and now completely alone, the bus was making it's last stop and was to join the bus stationary with the other people carriers. Tired eyes, and a warm mouth dropped as the bus driver leaned out of the booth and asked John to kindly leave. John stared at the man for a moment, before he picked himself up and began to walk down the aisle of chairs, poles and steps. The bus driver waited until John had exited before he pressed the button and the glass doors shut with a cold slam reflecting John's face in a distorted reflection.

As the bus drove off, John looked up at the raining sky and managed to spot a few stars between the gaps of black clouds, his arms folded against his chest, and his teeth clattered; and yet strangely his body burned.

* * *

_Hearing the sound of his name being moaned out,, John had automatically worried for his friend's well-being. Flinging his coat at the wall, he banged hard on Sherlock's door but the moaning simply got worst and a cry fell from Sherlock's room. _

"_AH! John?" Sherlock yelled, John didn't register the tone at all. Instead he barged in, worried and scared only to find Sherlock on his bed, curled up. One hand in his hair, while the other was down his... Oh god. Sherlock yelled out to John as the startled man raced out, shocked and confused._

_

* * *

_

He didn't understand. Sure he understood that every man needed release. But Sherlock Holmes? And what's more, moaning his name? It felt odd, and the hot feeling that consumed him burned his body.

He walked passed a group of youths tagging the walls, and then a group of homeless people sheltering themselves with cardboard and crisp packets. His body was moving whether it chose to go, while his mind was constantly figuring things out. He barged into people and was almost hit by cars, one person poked their head out and asked if he was okay but he didn't answer her.

He had been walking for just over a hour; the lights of shops flickered off and waves of metal were slammed down and locked up. In the end John found himself looking out at the Thames, only a few street lights keeping him safe from the darkness, and the rain caused buoys to clang together as the waves rose gently.

A black Mercedes had pulled up behind John Watson, the lights flashing onto his body causing him to shield his eyes from the bright lights, a door opened and Mycroft Holmes stood out of the car, smiling deviously and untying his umbrella.

"Hello Dr Watson." He chirped, a black octagon spread out over his head.  
"Mycroft." John answered politely nodding at the man. Mycroft rolled the handle in his hand, twisting the black shape around in a circle.

"I don't suppose, you'd want to share?" Mycroft offered, John smiled.

"It's a bit late don't you think?" He asked, spreading his arms out so the other man could get a better look at him.

"I've come to that conclusion already, Dr Watson." Mycroft said.

"Of course... sorry but, how exactly did you find me?" John asked. Smirking Mycroft caught the umbrella in his other hand, shuffling closer to John and extending his hand so the umbrella covered his head as well.

"Beggers are such delightful creatures, wave enough fifty pound notes under their noses times they can forget the cold and remember such small details, quite fascinating really." Mycroft chuckled. John glanced away.

"Right, sorry, I'll pay you back." He promised now looking back at older Holmes. Mycroft smiled and then squeezed John's arm.

"The only way you could pay me back is by getting into the car." He said, nodding towards the open door. John hesitated, his head to the ground, it wasn't like he wanted to stay outside in the cold but he didn't want to answer any questions, he was so confused to how he was feeling. "Please John?" Mycroft whispered sounding somewhat desperate, John's head snapped up in shock, he didn't know why, but he was obviously upsetting Mycroft somehow, and he didn't want that, the older Holmes had shown him nothing but kindness. Nodding, John approached the car then climbed in, sliding across the seats to make room for Mycroft, who slid in after closing the umbrella.

"Home please." He said to the driver.

* * *

"Um this is some place." John looked around in silent awe. He knew Mycroft must have been well off but this was ridiculous! A mansion? The rooms had chandeliers for Pete's sake! Mycroft grinned as he watched the man look around.

"Delightful isn't it? I've often offered Sherlock and Mother to move in, of course he's declined, keeps mother with him at all times. Pity, really, family doesn't see me often." He said happily.

John unfolded his arms, his forehead creasing in confusion.

"Now when you say mother-" He started.

"Oh you've met her quite a few times actually, she often lazes around on his mantel piece. Not to active these days." Mycroft explained watching John pale slightly. "Come now, I'll personally show you to your room, you don't expect me to kick you out now, do you?" Mycroft chuckled, now going up the long steps. John followed him quickly.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked as he stepped in line with the older Holmes. Mycroft thought carefully for a moment before he shook his head, obviously not wanting to answer. He clicked his tongue thoughtfully as they approached the door, and with a smirk Mycroft pulled out a hand.

John carefully opened the door and noticed instantly how the room was filled with Mycroft's personal belongings... it was Mycroft's room. He turned to Mycroft instantly, confused. Immediacy Mycroft shoved his hand over John's mouth and poured whatever was on their onto John's tongue.

John swallowed in shock, and his body suddenly flared up. Screaming John clutched at his body and shuddered, his eyes bright with lust and horror. Mycroft smirking, undid his tie and shoved John into his room. Slamming the door behind him.

"Oh god, no!" John cried, as Mycroft pinned him to the door and bit into his neck, John screamed, screamed for Mycroft to stop what he was doing, screamed as Mycroft undid his trousers and began to stroke the forced hard-on through bloated boxers.

"Please Mycroft, I- AH!" John's head rolled back as Mycroft sped up his movements.

"No? But John, you want to pay me back for all the kind things I've done for you today, don't you?" Mycroft chuckled, licking the side of John's face possessively. He lead them over to the bed and pinned the other man, thrusting up suggestively. John cried out in pleasure, and yet his heart was breaking.

"No! Not like this! Please, Sherlo-" SLAP! John felt stunned as the older Holmes slapped his ass, looking down he saw that the other man was erect and glancing up lustfully.

"Sherlock? My little brother that dismisses his feelings so easily? Surely you know that I get what he wants, and he wants you Mr Watson. He wants you like this, so I must have you like this. Nothing personal I assure you, I just want to steal you first before he can have you, I want to hear your screams before he can hear them, I want my name on your lips as you cum." Mycroft leaned down to kiss John. John tried to resist but he couldn't, a tear ran down his eyes and he let go. The heat had gotten the better of him.

_Sherlock _

The door suddenly burst open and before Mycroft could react, he was pulled off John and slung across the room by a young, fitter, Holmes. Growling, Sherlock launched himself onto his brother and brought a fist into his brothers face.

"YOU BASTARD!" He cried before throwing another punch. Mycroft tried to protest, but found that everything he said just provoked the younger man. So he just silently took it, blood running down his face and gladly accepting unconsciousness.

Sherlock spat at the feet of his brothers, he went to punch his brother again but was stopped by a somebody moaning his name. Lifting himself up, he walked over to the bed and watched John.

"Sherlock... Ah." John moaned, he was fisting himself, moving his hand over his erection.

"John... I-" Sherlock began but John simply let out a cry that cut off the younger man, his eyes filled with need.

"Sherrrlock? Uh, I can't... I need you t-" Reaching out, John looked up at Sherlock smiling warmly, he reached for Sherlock's face with his hand.

"I love you." He whispered, causing Sherlock to freeze. John loved him? John Watson loved him Sherlock Holmes? The man who often took him for granted and annoyed him, the man who put him in danger, the man who vowed to not to care? But he broke that vow, because he cared about John Watson. With a shudder, he descended onto John and kissed him fully. John moaned as Sherlock's tongue slid into his mouth and the younger man climbed on top of him.

"I love you." John repeated, Sherlock slid a hand under the soaked jumper and teased John's nipple, brushing it was his thumb.

"Again." Sherlock mumbled and he began to undo his trousers.

"I love you." John whimpered, and suddenly their erections were pressed together and Sherlock was rolling his head back.  
John placed his hand on Sherlock's cheek but Sherlock leaned back and instead kissed a few of the tips and lined John's cock up to him. With one swift shove, Sherlock was sitting on John and he cried out in pain before lifting himself up and embedding himself back onto John's cock. John groaned as Sherlock rocked against him, his hands went down to Sherlock's hips and he thrust up to try to reach that sweet spot. Sherlock screamed, screamed as John took him so roughly. Still riding the older man, Sherlock leaned down and kissed John, drool spreading down their chins as John angled better.

Sherlock dropped his head to meet John's gaze and suddenly although his body was filled with pleasure, he managed to smile. And then his expression changed to widened eyes and a gasp. Sherlock cried out as he came, John held Sherlock close as he came as well, both lost in the blitz of cries and passion.

* * *

Nobody seemed to notice the change in Sherlock's and John's relationship, it seemed everyone thought before that they were a couple anyway, wasn't a surprise. Mycroft, woke up the following morning congratulating his brother on the 'win' and then declared that he looked forward to the wedding which Sherlock coldly said that he wasn't invited to. It had been 3 months to that day, glancing up at the sky as it rained, John searched for the stars between the gaps and grinned as he spotted one.

"See that one, white Dwarf I think." He said pointing. Sherlock grunted, letting John grab his hand.

"You really don't know anything about the solar system do you?" John asked smiling softly.

"The best stars are the one's in poetry, my dear." Sherlock said, kissing John quickly. "Where would I be without you?" He groaned as he pulled John forward and put his head on his shoulder. John smiled softly, closing his eyes and sighing content. Sherlock smiled as he felt John relax against him and then he reached into his pocket. John stiffened as Sherlock whispered two words into his ear, kissing his neck tenderly.

_Marry me?_

Never in his life would Sherlock have thought he wanted this. To be tied down, or loved. And yet here he was, standing by the man who wanted to be his friend, his lover, his everything. Sherlock Holmes who nearly got everything right, wasn't sure of this one man's response. He knew now why some stupid sitcoms had these dramatic pauses when the question was asked.

"No Sherlock." And Sherlock's face fell.

"You marry me." John said before leaning forward and closing the gap between them.

The couple stood under the rain, silently kissing and waiting for what the future had for them. You could see the age gap, the gap between intelligence, the gap bewteen how much they cared, the gap of differences.

But at the end of the day John Watson had filled that gap inside Sherlock Holmes's heart.

* * *

Cannot speak am drooling in a puddle of drool


End file.
